Married at 18
by AimeeBass
Summary: Bella wakes up married to Edward Cullen, who'd she only just met. The problem? She's still a senior at FHS. The other problem? The judge orders them to stay married for a year as punishment for abusing the sanctity of marriage. Rated M. -Hiatus-
1. Prologue

**Married at 18**

Summary: Bella wakes up married to Edward Cullen, who'd she's only just met. The problem? She's still a senior at FHS. The other problem? The judge orders them to stay married for a year as punishment for abusing the sanctity of marriage.

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Prologue

* * *

Song: Anti Love Song, Stereo Total

─(((0)))─

I never thought that the words, "You are to stay married for the duration of the year. And no, Mr. and Mrs. Cullen, this does not give you the permission to indulge in irresponsible adolescent sex just because you are legally married. Any pregnancies and I will _not_ grant you an annulment, ever. In fact, I'll wrap this case up in so much red tape that your great-grandchildren will be present when you're finally able to even _look _at the divorce papers. Do I make myself clear?" would be the ones to ruin my life.

I always thought that words like, "Dear Ms. Swan, we regret to inform you that you have not been accepted to the Liberal Arts College of U of A," or "Sorry, Bella, you've twisted your ankle for the last time. Now you have to wear a permanent ankle brace for the rest of your life," would be the ones to surely do it.

I mean, I'm a fairly responsible teenager. I get good grades—of course, there's always room for improvement, but I'm not complaining. I come home every day and cook for my father, make sure he's getting enough sleep and cutting down on the beers he seems to love so much. I barely go out and party like a normal eighteen year old should. Really, the last party I'd been to that hadn't quite ended in a night of drunken sex and a marriage certificate had been my best friend Jacob's sixteenth birthday. The party before that had something to do with ponies and loudly colorful candy piñatas….

But still, after all of the good karma I've waved out during the last eighteen years of my life, you would think that I would be exempt, or at least granted a favor, of not waking up married after one night of a few drinks with friends. But no, apparently Karma was a crazy ass bitch heaping out injustices to unsuspecting, _undeserving_, individuals like me.

No, Edward Cullen—the sadistic, perverted, snob, Edward Cullen— probably deserved this fate, not me. Hell, there was nothing 'probable' about it! He _absolutely _deserved a fate like this. Especially after the way he swaggered into the courtroom, thick black designer shades on, hair in such a mess it could be deemed 'freshly fucked', and a pair of _jeans_ (jeans!) and a _t-shirt_ (a t-shirt!).

If that wasn't enough to seal us in the total debauchedness better known as our marriage, him showing up late, pulling out a fucking _hanky _(a hanky!) and snobbishly wiping down his chair _and_ table, was.

After watching the judge turn three shades of purple, I sat back in my chair, totally resigned to my fate.

The rest of the day didn't go much better; meeting the parents was definitely on my list of "Moments Best Left Forgotten." Let's just say that the police chief putting together a night of drinks and a drunken marriage, ending in a night of deflowering his precious, innocent daughter meant cordial introductions wouldn't be expected.

His parents, on the other hand, were nice people… total opposites of the jerk they had the nerve to actually call 'son'. They handled themselves amicably, a far cry from Charlie's obtuse grunts and deadly vice grips around said jerk's neck.

After Charlie no longer felt the urge to "de-testicle-ize" the brat that had stolen his daughters "sacred pearl" (his words, not mine), we migrated to a place private enough to discuss arrangements, yet public enough not to get away with offing the bastard flown in from hell in a fully loaded Aston Martin.

The verdict? He would be moving from his home in Seattle, Washington to Forks, Washington—a small town with a population rivaling the size of a small elementary school—and will enroll in Forks High School for his senior year, which, in itself, was ecstatic news. I should be happy I didn't have to _completely_ uproot my life, but when Dr. Cullen quoted the judge by saying that Edward and I were to actually have a _normal _marriage—which involved counseling, real jobs, school together, _and_ living together—I found that _those_ were quite possibly the words that would ruin my life.

I'm Isabella Cullen nee Swan, and this is my nightmare.

--

Last week, if someone asked me "hey Edward, what do you think about marriage?" After I laughed myself into hysterics, I'd say "Are you fucking kidding me? Edward Cullen _never_ thinks of marriage." Because in reality, me thinking about marriage is like a serial killer facing the death penalty thinking about hell—I avoid all thoughts and images at all costs.

But just as hell eventually becomes unavoidable for that deranged serial killer, marriage has become unavoidable to me.

I've died and the devil, informally known as Isabella Swan has done a sufficient job at busting my balls, and not only that, she's doing a hell of a job at turning my eye to every wrong deed I've ever done in my life, causing me to want to make it better.

I mean just last night, I saw a water bottle lying on the ground beside the ramp on the expressway so I got out of my fucking car, walked over to the fucking thing, and picked it the fuck up. Seriously. My conscious was under the impression that if I waved out enough good Karma I'd wake up and find that this totally debauched _marriage_ ma-thingy was all just a fucking dream—_cough—nightmare—cough._

Of course when I woke up to Alice vibrating over me with a black velvet ring box in hand, explaining how no marriage should ever move forward without the bling—even a drunken one commenced inside of a minister's small living room that smelled like cat piss—I knew that Karma was a bitchy harpy.

I'd never thought I'd say it in a million years, but the last person I wanted to be was Edward Cullen right now.

--

**EDIT 4/12/10**

**I'm going back in to correct and add a few things before I update the 7th chapter. I know it's been forever, but I will be correcting this week and Thursday of next week I'll post the chapter everyone's been waiting for.**


	2. There’s Something About Edward…

**-------------------**

**Chapter One:**

There's Something About Edward….

**-------------**

**Listen to the Playlist (remove all spaces)**: www . playlist . com /playlist/17271232523

Easy Girl, Coconut Records

Nighttiming, Coconut Records

Timebomb, Beck

**--**

**Bella's Note:**

To Whom It May Concern,

There's something about Edward Cullen that annoys me, and I'm not talking the 'I-can't-stand-you-please don't-even-_think-_about-coming-within-one-mile-of-me' type of annoying. But the 'I-want-to-fucking-kick your-teeth-in-and-scatter-them-in-various-parts-of-the-world-for-a-scavenger-hunt' type of annoying. The kind only reserved for homicidal crazies and the poor victims that got between them and their prey, type of annoying.

And yeah, just like the serial killer off the movie, _Prom Date_, I'm ready to fuck off a bunch of sillies that are in my way, just to get to Edward Cullen's throat. Minus the crazy obsession he had for the chick throughout the entire movie, my feelings for Cullen in no way ran positive, no matter how hard you tried to see them—they just weren't there.

Hey, don't look at me that way! I know you guys are under this spell driven by his wild bronze hair, his piercing green eyes, and his crooked smile that brought just as much guilt as that last piece of chocolate cake you consumed in the wee hours of the morning. I mean, how could you not—there weren't many guys out there whose lips resembled pink plush pillows, dressed like they fell off the cover of GQ, _and_ still be _straight._

But I knew a different side of 'Cullen, the monster,' a side that would have you sharpening the pitch forks, gathering the crowds, and lighting the torches for me.

But before I go into details, let me remind you that I had tried to be, at the very least, cordial to the smarmy bastard, and it had only been a day since the judge's order—just a _day_.

Not a lot of things could happen in twenty-four hours, right?

Wrong!

A day was all it took for me to officially hate my husband.

--

**Twenty-four Hours Prior:**

Somewhere in the muddled chaos that was now known as Charlie's brain, a logical idea presented itself: we would stay another night in Seattle. No, it wasn't so he could sneak into Edward's window in the dead of night to off him like I originally thought (and would later wish I had pushed for a little more), but to get to know him and my new in-laws better—away from the trial.

Schmaltzy stuff like that…

This was why I was sitting in the middle of the Cullen's 'home,' fidgeting around like a complete basket case.

"Can Joffre get you get anything from the kitchen, Bella?" Esme smiled, her Colgate perfect teeth gleaming from the anomalous amount of light shining through her floor-to-ceiling windows in the parlor.

Yeah, they had a fucking parlor room, _and_ a solarium, _and_a drawing room, _and_ a ballroom. I was too scared to even look at her satin white settee, much less sit on it.

So far, I'd found out that the Cullens had enough money to feed a third world country, but not enough to buy Edward manners. _Go figure…_

He was supposed to be here, but from the angry hiss-like whispers between his mother and the maid I deciphered earlier, Edward hadn't even come home last night. Big fucking surprise there.

"No, thank you, Mrs. Cullen. My father and I happened upon a quaint little bistro before stopping here." I said, and I added a snobbish laugh in, for good measures. You know: the laugh that actually pronounced the word, Ha! "It was quiet charming, really." _Bella, you are officially an idiot._

Mrs. Cullen looked at me oddly, like I was leaking what was left of my brains all over her lovely Persian rug or some shit like that, but quickly covered her stare with a small smile. "Call me Esme, dear."

"_Esme_." I smiled back nervously.

Okay, so I was nervous. Not entirely a big deal; people were allowed to be nervous every once in a while, especially when they're sitting in a 'home' rivaling the size of Malfoy Manor—which didn't entirely quell my frazzled nerves.

I was waiting for Bellatrix to pop out of nowhere and "Crucio" me in the middle of the floor with a cackling Edward behind cheering her on. _Too much fiction, Bella._

"So, Bella, tell me about yourself," Esme suggested as she glided towards the chair in front of me, sat down, and crossed her feet at the ankles. The spitting image of a lady.

I, on the other hand, was fumbling around with my hands like a complete idiot, while trying to make my answers sound 'put together,' or, as close to 'put together' as they could be. Yeah, not working so well…

"Well, I am now of the age eighteen. I am a senior of Forks High School, Editor of our local─"

"Stop," Esme giggled. "Bella, please stop. You don't have to act like a snob for us to get along." She laughed, covering her mouth with her hand.

I laughed too, relieved, and slightly embarrassed, that Esme was wise to my game. "I don't?" I asked.

"Heavens, no!" She snorted. "I can't _stand_ pretentious snobs, which is probably why I couldn't stand all of the little girls Edward use to flaunt around here. But you," she said, pointing a manicured finger at me, "You, I like—you remind me of myself, when I was your age."

"Really?" It was more of a shocked statement. There was just simply _no way _the beautiful and proper Esme Cullen could ever be "reminded" of herself by clumsy, aloof me.

"_I _remind you of _you?"_

"Yes." She smiled just as we heard the main doors open and slam closed. "But, that's a story best left for later. Meanwhile, I have a sneaky little devil to deal with. Make yourself at home. _Mi casa es tu casa_!" she murmured, already making her way out of the room.

_Okay, so she wasn't the only one that thought Edward Cullen was the devil…_

At least I was in good company, then. It was nice to know I had an alliance; she could come in handy once Cullen decided to finally take off that mask he was wearing… or she could keep me company when I was locked up in his evil lair somewhere.

_She could even bring me cookies,_ I thought, looking at the nice platter of some arranged neatly on a silver service platter in the center of the table.

They were sugar… with yellow frosting and lots of sprinkles—homemade, no doubt about it.

They'd been sitting there, looking all soft and delicious to torture me, but knowing my clumsy habits, I'd stayed clear from the soft delectable cookies in front of Esme, least I make a fool of myself and get crumbs all over my mouth, my clothes, my hair… her floor… or, God-forbid, her expensive satin couch!

That would have been _really_ embarrassing.

I was suddenly starting to wish Charlie and I had really thought about stopping for something to eat. Or, rather, I should say I, since Charlie was mainly focused on getting to Dr. Cullen and that new boat he'd been raving about.

Yep: apparently over their teenage children being forced to stay married and live under the same roof, they've quelled their anger and disappointment with talks of new boats and fishing.

_I'm just as shocked as you are._

And when I voiced my concerns—because there most definitely were some concerns—Charlie just patted me on the head and smiled that 'I know something you don't know,' smile before saying, "Jeesh, Bells, I thought you'd want at least one sane parent. You know, after you tell your mother and all?"

_Wow, thanks dad, nice time to get a sense of humor._

And so my concerns were redirected. I no longer had to worry about my father going stock raving mad because _fishing _quelled his nerves.

_Nothing like a nice new boat and a day out on the lake fishing to forget your daughter's drunken marriage and her night of wild abounded sex as a parting gift. _

But it _did _work in my favor, however. All I had to worry about now was the biblically insane monster I was now married to, and my erratic harebrained mother, Renee.

The same Renee that hated all things marriage—excluding Phil because he was one of a kind, and there just simply wasn't another man out there worthy enough for such a commitment. _Gag much?_

To say that she was going to 'shit nails' (my darling sister's words, not mine) was merely an understatement.

I could practically see it now:

_Hello mother, can I introduce you to your new son-in-law?_

_What the fuck, Bella? I send you to your father's for less than a year, and you come back married!?_

_Sorry mom, but if you were there for that night of wild sex where we proceeded to do what they do on the discovery channel, you'd have married him, too._

I was _so _not looking forward to having _that _conversation.

"I hope you know, that is a seventy-four thousand dollar rug you're using as a desert plate," a slow, lazy voice drawled from the doorway.

Without looking towards the voice—because heavens, it was _not _necessary to look to place that smooth liquid voice was. It could really only belong to one person, Smarmy the Bastard.

However, I _did _look down at the floor and noticed bits of the cookie I had been unknowingly munching on. _Just perfect._

As if on cue, a huge rush of heat started to warm my face.

_You know that one saying? Never let your attacker sense fear? Well, let's just say, never let 'Smarmy the Bastard' sense embarrassment._

He clucked his tone disapprovingly as he leered at me from his spot in the doorway. He looked at me expectantly, like he was waiting on something.

Apparently my brain had decided to go fishing with Charlie, because I dropped to my knees, still very flustered, and began picking up crumb by crumb, all the while chanting 'seventy-four thousand dollar rug, fucking nutters' over and over again in my head.

Esme was going to hate me! And, for some reason, that thought unsettled me.

Esme seemed like the perfect mother that I'd dreamed of having as a child. The kind that gave out hugs and bedtime stories, kisses on injured knees and cookies on hot summer days, just because. I didn't want to be the one to anger the perfect person.

Edward snorted and I heard the muffled thumps in his stride as he crossed the carpeted floor. "Get up _Isabella_," he hissed, grabbing me under my arms and yanking me to his level. "No matter how much it pains me to admit this, you are _not _the hired help," he clenched out, more quietly this time, "so stop acting so _common."_

Something clicked inside of me as I yanked my arm from his grip. _Aw, brain, there you are!_

"I didn't know 'asshole' was your handicap. Though, I must admit, I _did _have my suspicions!" I yelled, _finally _regaining some dignity. _Nice._ "You don't have to be fucking rude all of the damn time!"

His green eyes bore into me, showing both distaste and amusement. "You are just too cute when you're angry." He sighed loudly, as I stood, confused, waiting for him to start foaming at the mouth or something.

_Edward Cullen was fucking crazy._

"But, as much as I'd like to continue this little _discussion_, that's not why I came; _Judge Volturi_ is here to discuss our arrangements!" He beamed.

_Okay, not crazy… just a fucking vindictive, sneaky asshole! The fucker completely set me up!_

_Alright, Edward Cullen, two can most definitely play that game._

_--_

"Mrs. Cullen, I couldn't help but to overhear that little _disagreement_ you had with Edward in the other room, there. I hope, for your sake, that you are at least trying to be amicable towards your new husband. I did, after all, make myself clear on the objects of which I would like your marriage based upon. Hard work and affability… just to name a few," he drawled.

_Edward, is it?_

I just nodded my head and gritted my teeth around a tight smile. My fingernails were digging into the palms of my hands, making pink half moons against my frighteningly pale skin, very nearly drawing blood, which was something I usually tried to stay away from any other day. I fucking hate blood; the smell, the texture… everything about it, really.

But, as of right now, it was a much better option than unclenching my hands and showing Mr. _Volturi _just how _affable_ I could be to Edward _fucking _Cullen.

"Yes your honor. It was merely a little _lovers _spat. I believe I've read somewhere that those things _do_ happen."

I heard Edward's low gasp and a whispered "You read?"

Of course, Judge Volturi pretended not to hear any of it and continued to nod his head at my original statement thoughtfully.

"Yes, they do, but they also learn to voice their concerns without yelling or cursing. I do believe you are an intelligent young lady, Mrs. Cullen, so I hope that your vocabulary extends past the colorful words I just heard you yell at Edward."

Edward snorted.

_Fucking jerk._

"But, as your husband has already stated, I'm here to discuss your arrangements. I hear that Edward was generous enough to volunteer a move to…" he trailed off, taking a small case out of his jacket and slipping on a pair of bifocals. "_Forks,_ Washington, is it?" He spat out 'Forks' with a little distaste.

_Wow, so much animosity for a little old town? Tell me how you really feel, Judge._

"Yes, Sir," Smarmy McBastard piped up, playing the fucking part of golden boy.

_Um, what? I do believe Edward was kicking and screaming and using much more colorful words than mine when _Dr. Cullen volunteered_ the _move_ for him._

"Well, that was nice of you, Edward," the judge beamed. I was so fucking tempted to look under the table because those bitches had to be stroking each other's junk or something… this shit was just too fucking surreal to be fo' real.

"Mrs. Cullen, I hope that you follow your husband's generous move with one of your own. Give and take is what marriage is all about. He's giving you the luxury of staying at your home school for your senior year, even when his very own school is well recognized in the Ivy community. Might I suggest him making the next important decision?" he said, his beady little eyes glaring over his bifocals at me.

_Might I suggest you shutting the hell up?_

"Yes, Sir, that sounds like a wonderful idea. Edward, did you have something _important _you wanted to decide?"

And thus how the meeting continued, Judge Volturi riding Edward's junk, and said Bastard grinning like the cat that got the cream.

When the meeting was finally over, Edward managed to get the Judge to agree to a residence of our own, not staying with Charlie the way everyone agreed to yesterday.

And since I didn't have the money for rent (which was something the judge paid great detail to) and Edward did, I was to find another means in which I could be helpful.

Those ego stroking bitches probably wanted me to do something domestic like laundry, cooking dinner, ironing his unmentionables… _those chauvinistic pigs._

"Thank you for making it easier in there for me," the bitch from hell murmured distractedly as he fumbled with his phone.

"Fuck you, Cullen, you got to the Judge and you know it," I hissed. If there was one thing I'd learned in the short three hours of my visit here, it was to curse McBastard out quietly—there was no telling who he had hiding in dark corners.

He smirked as he briefly glanced my way. "Yeah, I did."

_Fucking suck up. God, I was really running out of words for him._

"How'd you do it?" I asked, because fuck all if I didn't want to know.

_Curiosity killed the cat Bella… And satisfaction brought it back._

I was _so _going crazy. There should be a warning sign on Cullen's back: _Warning; may cause hallucinations, craziness, mental conversations, and homicide._

"Don't bother your frizzy little head over it. Just do as I say and I won't _completely _screw you over," he smirked again.

_Ugh. Fuck you, bitch._

"That bad, huh? Ice should help for those bruised knees, then."

I was expecting yelling, anger, a fierce glare… anything but laughter.

"And you should know, shouldn't you, _Isabella_? If you are anything at all, it is an expert in _that _area. It was nice chatting with you, though. We should do this more often—or not. Whatever. Have a nice night, _Mrs. Cullen._"

_Did that fucker just call me a whore _and_ dismiss me?_

Oh, dear Cullen, you will surely pay for that.

_Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned, Mr. Cullen._

My phone buzzed in my pocket, almost scaring me shitless and knocking me out of my murderous thoughts. _Saved from jail by a vibration._

I pulled it out, slid it open, and found that I had '1 new Text Message.'

B,

WTF, Bells? U fell off the earth, or what? Call me back ASAP!

J.

I smiled my first real smile of the day; if there was anyone in the whole fucking universe that knew how to handle a jerk like Cullen… _J_ most definitely would.

With a plan forming in my head, I made my way back to the parlor to wait for Charlie.

_Oh yes, my dear husband was going to pay greatly._

**----**

**Author's Note: Uh-oh Bella, what are we getting into?**

**I hoped this chapter wasn't a disappointment especially after all of the awesome reviews I've received the last chapter. You guys are so awesome for that by the way….so awesome ****in fact that I sent out teasers to all of the reviewers! I wasn't expecting to have this chapter out so soon, but my Beta**** Gangstapenguinduck lover is truly a godsend and fast as hell on the returns.**** Thanks so much!**

**Oh and by the way, **If you don't have an account and would still like a teaser you could send me your email addy in your review and I'll send you the teaser, or better yet, you could click on my profile and on the homepage link you'll find my depressingly sad live journal where I will try to have a teaser posted each Wednesday. **Or**, if you want to review and not receive a teaser just let me know!

**Next chapter:** We find out who exactly 'J' is…could be Jasper, Jacob, James, Jessica…..anyone really! **And** other stuff….

Okay people reviews equals love…..and quicker updates!


	3. The Stepsister

**Author's Note: Smaller chappie, I know. Another author's note at the end....**

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**Chapter Two:**

The Stepsister

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**Playlist:**

No playlist this time…sorry!

----

Mike Newton was the king of dumbasses and Jessica was his queen. After a long drive home—filled with deafening silence and Charlie's choking grip on the steering wheel that probably resembled Edward Cullen's neck in his illusory madness—I've come to find said Queen and King Dumbass primly sitting on my porch, one with a canary-eating grin while the other looked as if I just told him I'd ran over his puppy and enjoyed doing it.

Two guesses which look belonged to whom….

Charlie gave me a pointed look as he exited the car that clearly said: get rid of 'em now!

I knew not to try his patience; being called to pick up one's daughter from a town nearly six hours away when she was supposed to be having a nice wholesome night consisting of a birthday slumber party with only girls. Definitely _not_ consisting of liquor and _not_ six hours away—any dad would be at his breaking point there. However, being told that his "innocent" daughter had a one night stand, got married, and was now court ordered to live _alone_ with said guy, had Charlie red, boiling, and a total crab.

_Yeah, where's that appallingly stale sense of humor now, Dad?_

It went right out of the window once I told Charlie what Edward swindled us into. Luckily for Edward, we were already three hours away before I told him.

But nevertheless, I couldn't pass up the opportunity of telling off King and Queen Ass since it was mainly their fault anyway.

Ten more minutes of defiance wouldn't _kill_ Charlie.

_You know what they say, what doesn't kill you makes you stronger and all that crap…._

Mike sat, head ducked, hands tucked between his knees, as Charlie walked past him, grimacing at the fake ass, sparkly grin Jessica Stanley was shooting my father's way as he went into the house. Smug bitch.

He glanced over his shoulder—probably making sure that Charlie had, indeed, gone into the house and wasn't hovering behind the screen door like the overprotective psycho dad he pretends that he's not—before sputtering unintelligently.

"What the fuck happened at Club Eclipse, Swan?!" he hissed, barreling off the porch towards me like he actually had some sort of claim on me. One glance towards Queen Dumbass's now sobered expression told me she came to the same idea that I had, and she was not happy at all.

"Excuse me? Where the fuck did you guys go? Leaving me alone at a fucking club, with no way to go home! Guess what? Not such a good idea!" I hissed back.

"Oh, come on! Cut the shit, Swan, you left us and you know it. _Jessica_ saw you walk out with her own two eyes," he mocked, his hands flailing around in the air like a crazy, angry chicken.

_With her own two eyes, did she? Figures…_

I turned my 'drop dead, bitch' glare towards Jessica and noticed her return one of her own.

_Fine, bitch, don't look remorseful then._

"Well, if _Jessica_ really did see _me_ walk out—of a _club_! _Drunk_!—shouldn't that send out red sparks or some shit? Hello! Bella _fucking_ Swan walks out of a club! And, hey, there's a pretty good chance that she's _drunk_! Where did you think I went to, Mike? Home to water the fucking plants?" I yelled. "Or did you even care that some guy could have possibly been taking advantage of me in my drunkenness?" I whispered the last part, the turmoil of the week finally setting in.

Emotions were weird that way. Edward Cullen couldn't break me; Judge Volturi couldn't break me; but one look at one of my closest friends, acting just as he were a week ago, talking to me like I was Bella Swan—the girl he use to make mud pies with—and not Bella Cullen—a girl whom _I _didn't even know yet—had downsized my emotional range to that of a teaspoon.

Life just wasn't fair. Here I stood, in front of two people who had participated in the same things that night (plus more), who did that sort of thing _every_ weekend, and I was the one that had to reap the consequences of what was supposed to be "just a little fun before school started".

Mike's face softened and he held his arms out, stepping closer.

I shook my head furiously, taking a step back. "No! No, huggy-buddy. I just want some time alone."

His hands dropped down to his sides as he sighed softly. "I'm sorry, Bella. I didn't think to ask…I didn't know if…." he trailed off, glancing over his shoulder at Jessica.

"If someone had taken advantage of you, you would tell me right?" he whispered softly so that only I could hear.

I nodded.

"Did they?"

"No," I murmured back. And it was true, I wasn't taken advantage of; I was just as responsible as Cullen was.

He sighed, running his hands through his hair. "Okay," he said simply. "Jess, let's go. Call me if you need me, Bells."

----

I walked past Charlie, who was sitting on the couch—a beer in one hand and the remote in the other—as he shouted out wrong answers to _Wheel of Fortune, _and into the kitchen to fix us a quick, late lunch.

But when I remembered all of the times Charlie had been eating hotel food and fast food for the whole week just to help straighten out the mess I created.

I decided to cook an early dinner.

_Urgh, the power of guilt….._

Lasagna happened to be his favorite, and today was just one of those days where lasagna seemed practical.

Nothing like a hearty meal to say, "I'm sorry."

I opened the fridge and snatched up the cheese, meat, and noodles and began working.

Cooking was relaxing to me. Just knowing that I was creating something worthwhile completely from scratch was very rewarding.

It also helped that between Renee, Phil, and Charlie, I was the only one that actually knew how to make a meal that didn't require a microwave or a toaster. Cooking had always been something I prided myself on. After all, it was something I was able to do when no part of the parental unit could.

My phone buzzed just as I was about to add the sauce. I quickly slipped it out, not even bothering to look at the caller ID, and answered.

"Talk to me."

"Is that how you people answer the phone over there?_"_

"Hello, Jane, to what do I owe the pleasure this time?" I sighed.

Jane was my older sister; well, _step_-sister anyway. Her father Phil had the balls to marry Renee, thus making her my sister. She was such a snob and her mother was some big time supermodel over in Italy. For that reason alone, Jane felt like the world owed her everything. I usually tried to avoid her, but ever since I'd fallen victim to the devil incognito, she'd made it her personal goal to take me under her broken wings; you know, now that she deemed my life interesting enough.

_Yeah, I know, total bitch! _

So why don't I just hang up, you say? Well, getting drunk and marrying a complete stranger is right up Jane's alley—hell, anything deemed immoral is right up Jane's alley. Right now was just one of those days where I had to break out the disinfectant spray and pick through that sludge fill she had the nerve to call a brain.

"Tsk, tsk, little Bells. Don't you be talking to me like that! Especially when I know a secret…." She sing-songed.

_God, her voice could be so annoying most times, but _okay_, I bite!_

"And what secret is that, Janey?" I sing-songed back. I knew I would regret kissing up later, but hey, between Jane and Edward, I considered Jane to be the lesser of two evils.

"First say you're sorry."

"I'm sorry," I grumbled back.

"Okay, and now say that I am the most beautiful person in the world."

_Heaven help me!_

"You are the most beau—beau—ti—beauti—fu—fool person in the world," I stumbled out.

She sighed. "I guess that'll have to do… for now," she mumbled.

"Okay, great!" I exclaimed, relieved as hell that she wouldn't make me say it again. Even _I_ wasn't _that_ good of a liar. "Spill it!"

"Well….Okay. I was sitting at the salon—you know, the one on Main Avenue, over there by that hideous boutique your mother _loves_ to shop at?"

"Yep," I replied, clearly remembering the green boa wrapped around one of the display mannequins.

"Okay, well, like I said. I was sitting at New Moon's waiting for Marcus to apply this new scrub he made. It's supposed to like, make your hair supper soft or some shit like that. But really, it's just a complete rip-off. I mean, my hair is already naturally soft and shiny. I really didn't need it, but Marcus insisted… and I was like, what the hell? At the least it'll make my hair smell like kiwi, and you know how much I _love_ kiwi. I have no clue why they don't make kiwi scented shampoo anymore…."

"Urgh, if there's no point I'm hanging up," I grumbled, rolling my eyes. I mean, shampoo, scrub, kiwi… who the fuck cares?

"Jeesh, you really need to get laid."

"Screw you!" I spat out.

"I know, dear, but I'm sure your new hubby is desperate enough to do that."

"The point, Jane."

"Okay. _Anyway,_ Marcus was just putting on his new scrub when Caius himself walks through the doors."

"Okay…?"

"Okay, so, Caius started talking to Marcus about God knows what, so I pulled out a magazine and completely tuned them out… until he mentioned the name Cullen. I was curious, wondering why in the hell that name sounded so familiar. But then Jasper texted me—"

"Wait, _Jasper _texted you?" _Then what the fuck was his reason for not texting me back?_

"Well, yeah, he said he called and texted you a few times yesterday but you never responded. He wanted to know why the fuck there was pictures of you making out with some guy named Edward Cullen—with matching ring pops on—in front of a chapel, on Facebook."

_Wait, hold up. "_Pictures? What fucking pictures? And, facebook? I don't even have a facebook account!" I screeched.

"Well, you should get one," she laughed. "You guys look so wasted it's almost cute."

_Urgh, fuck me!_ The wooden spoon I had been holding clattered to the floor as I made my way to my room, silently chanting, "pictures, facebook, must find pictures."

"And when they mentioned Masen, it finally clicked. I mean, really _fucking clicked_:Tanya Denali went to the boarding school my mom sent me to my sophomore year. Well, anyway_, _she was a crazy slut, always had her nose in the latest fashion magazine, and her skirt flipped up for better grades—sleeping her way to the top basically."

I sighed, half listening to Jane's rambles and half watching as my annoyingly ancient computer dialed in. _This is exactly why I don't have facebook._

"Well, after winter break she came back, raving about this boy she'd met in New York. She claimed she was in love and 'like, totally head-over-heels' for him—not to mention he was rich and his mother was like, this big socialite who was taking her to Paris for fashion week!"

_Finally! I've got internet!_ I felt like the skies should open up and a light beam should highlight the contraption.

"So, of course, she raved on and on about finding the perfect dress and hiring the perfect stylist. It was annoying really. I mean, _I _was going too, but you didn't hear me talking about it _all _of the time_, _twenty-four hours a day!_"_

I smiled as facebook finally popped up and I was able to type in Jasper's email address. _He really isn't the creative type. He's had the same password since third grade._

"So, anyway, like six weeks later, my roommate Victoria found her crying and puking her guts up into the toilet_."_

"Okay, so she had an eating disorder. No big deal," I replied. I had completely given up on seeing how this whole conversation was relevant_._

"That's what I thought, too! I mean, who hasn't tried splurging to drop a few pounds before fashion week?"

"Hmm," I agreed, looking through Jasper's feed.

"Okay, so the next day, Victoria goes to her dorm room to make sure that she's okay. Everybody thinks Victoria's a bleeding heart, but really, she's just a conniving little bitch. I have _no_ clue what James Cor see's in her."

"Wait, James Cor, the actor, James Cor?"

"Yup, that'll be the one. Blonde hair, blue eyes, sexy fucking smile." She sighed dreamily.

I grunted in agreement. He was sex on legs, but from all of the drama the press claimed he kept, he was a little too unstable for my taste.

"Yeah, so, Victoria went to her dorm and Tanya's roommate, Rosalie, answered, claiming that Tanya had transferred in the dead of the night. So Victoria might have mentioned seeing Tanya for fashion week with Elizabeth Masen next month…"

_Pictures, finally… _

"But Rosalie said that Elizabeth Mason was her aunt that had been dead for years! So imagine my surprise when I actually see Tanya at fashion week. Only she's not with Elizabeth Mason, like she claimed, but _working_ as one of Laurent Mario's seamstresses!" She laughed.

I groaned, looking at the picture that clearly showed McBastard and I making out with matching ring pops in front of a chapel. _God, how much longer is my life going to be screwed?_

"But get this: one of her supervisors or whatever, was bitching about her getting the dresses finished in time, and they didn't call her Tanya Denali but Tanya _fucking _Cullen!"

"Wait, what?!" I yelled, jumping out of my chair, pictures temporarily forgotten.

"Yeah, so Tanya rushed out from sitting behind the table, apologizing profusely—the bitch was ready to pop!" She laughed.

"What do you mean 'pop'? 'Pop' like, my splurging didn't work 'pop,' or 'pop' like something else?"

"'Pop' like, the bitch was eight months pregnant 'pop'!"

---------------

**Author's Note:**

So sorry this chapter was up like a week late, but I had some serious technical issues. My computer frizzed and I lost the original chapter and had to rewrite, and then after I rewrote it, my internet completely stopped working! So sorry to the last few reviewers that didn't get teasers! But…..now that my computer's fixed, hopefully, I'm back to updating once a week and sending out teasers for each review. The next chapter's almost done so hopefully it'll be up by Saturday? And guess what? It's Edward's point of view…interesting huh?

And also, please don't hate Edward, there is a side to every story, and besides are we really going to listen to idle gossip? I think not….

And as always, I like to thank **Gangstapenguinduck lover** for making this chapter readable and not one rambling, muddled thought like it originally was! You're truly awesome!

So Reviews equal faster updates **and** teasers!


	4. Not in Kansas Anymore Part: 1

**------------------------------**

**Chapter Three:**

**Not in Kansas Anymore Part:1**

**--------------------------------**

**--------**

**Sorry! Not my fault for the late update! That little bit goes to ffnet. As always author's note at the end....**

----------

The girl was annoying—her vernacular was lacking, she dressed like a hyped up hobo, her nose was off centered, her eyes- too expressive, skin- far too pale….. the only thing she had going for herself was her long, wavy, brown hair, and even _that_ needed professional assistance.

And really, unless she was going to greet people with her wonderfully skilled blow jobs, introducing her to my friends would be far too embarrassing.

_Urgh, _her fucking blow jobs were 'A.' Her warm little mouth, those breathy little moans she'd make around me, and that trick she did with her tongue…. Guh!

It fucking sucked that such a fuck-awesome mouth had to be attached to such… _insignificance_. It was a tragedy, really.

Other than that, she had absolutely nothing else to offer. I mean, "Hi, I'm Bella Swan and I'm a senior at Forks High school"? What the fuck is a 'Forks'?

And her father, Charlie Swan—let's just say that I know where her lack of refinement stemmed from. He was just as hot-headed as his daughter. From his many grunts and aggressive behavior, I could tell that the Swan family hadn't evolved very far from the troglodytes.

Okay, of course, I understood his…_displeasure_ in finding out his daughter was a little easier than she should be, but really, it wasn't like I tied her down to the bed and had my wicked way with her! She was _very_ willing, in fact, if my memory serves me correctly, _she _was the one who'd initiated all contact, not I!

And he had the nerve to try and attack me while buck-tooth Bella sat back, all high and mighty and fucking_ grinning_ at papa beaver's barbaric behavior.

_These people really shouldn't be allowed out in public._

_And then_, she plays the fucking innocent role with Carlisle and Esme—looking all sad and walking around as if her life was fucking over. And, of course, Carlisle and Esme just ate that shit up, siding with her, even going as far as to suggest that _I_ be the one to fucking move to the middle of nowhere!

_Me,_ the one who was destined for greatness, delivered through a top of the line Ivy degree—a legacy most people killed for—and fuck-awesome looks as a bonus.

The only thing good out of the arrangement was that nobody that knew me would ever see who I'm—God help me—_married_ to.

That would be God-awful.

"I know you're not excited about this son, but don't go down there taking out your frustration on Bella. It's not completely her fault; at least _half_of the blame belongs to you, so act as such," Carlisle mumbled, disrupting my musings.

_That was fine, since he seemed to be disrupting everything else. My life, my future…why not my internal monologue, also?_

I turned to look back out of the window, turning my nose up as we went by another cluster of woods. Somewhere between Seattle and the rabbit hole, nature grew confused over whether to grow country farms or forest.

It was very _Little House on the Prairie._

"I'm serious, Edward. You don't have to play the perfect husband, but I do want you to at least be cordial. After all, you two will be living alone together for the next year," he muttered that bit a little harsher than he probably intended to.

I wasn't surprised though; both Carlisle and Esme were very upset after I told them what the judge was allowing us to do. But after I pointed out Charlie's failure of acting like a civilized person when angered, Esme reluctantly agreed. I shouldn't have to feel intimidated in a place I'm supposed to call home.

Carlisle, on the other hand, was still disappointed. He was more worried about me making _Isabella_ feel intimidated if we lived together alone. It was really sick how firmly attached his lips were to the girl's ass.

I mean, yeah we've had our spats, but at least _I tried _to be amicable to Isabella, which only managed to get my balls handed to me afterward.

"The first distraught phone call I get from Bella, I'm cutting you off until the divorce is over. No car, no trust fund, no trips to New York, no apartment. You'll have to move back in with Charlie, so behave." He sighed as if the world was on _his_ fucking shoulders.

I wanted to scream out "_Hey, at least you _like_ your wife!" _but I stayed quiet. I wasn't in the mood for another argument. I had plenty more to look forward to after my arrival in Forks.

My phone started blaring some pop song I wasn't familiar with. It sounded like punk rock, so I hurried up and slipped it out of my pocket, flipping it open, not wanting to get another speech about respecting Bella and temporarily retiring my 'chick book.'

Yeah, Carlisle still thinks people carry little black books and call girls 'chicks'. I mean, they probably still do—on _Save by the Bell_ reruns.

I had a text from Alice.

Call me when u get ur apartment. I'll help decorate. For now have fun with wicked witch. Remember click thrice for Kansas, Dorothy.

-Alice knows best

I smiled, shaking my head. Alice was out of her mind, but she was my girl and I loved her hard for that.

I settled back in my seat, actually feeling content and closed my eyes. There was no radio reception this far out and I'd be damned if I was going to listen to the rat pack the whole ride there. Sleep was really the only option.

------

I was walking down the yellow brick road towards the Emerald City with Toto, scarecrow, lion, and tin man when a green blur sped at me, almost knocking me backwards.

When it slowed down, I was able to see a face—_Bella's face._ Her face was covered in green goo and an awfully large wart looked close to falling off of her nose. She smiled wickedly sweet at me, her yellow fury teeth proudly on display as she said, "Wake up, love."

What the fuck?!

I opened my eyes, blinking rapidly, and Bella's face appeared through the fog. She was standing over me, laughing hysterically, and I couldn't help but notice her green goo, wart, and fury teeth are absent.

_She must have put them away for the day then._

"Language, Edward," Carlisle admonished.

_Did I really scream that out loud?_

I groaned, scrubbing my hands over my face and through my hair in an attempt to fully wake up.

"How was your trip, Carlisle?" Bella managed to say through her lingering giggles.

"Long and exhausting," he replied as Bella smiled and nodded.

"Yeah, I know—Charlie and I slept in all Monday. The trip from Seattle is _very_ tiring," she replied, walking back towards the house.

Carlisle got out of the car, giving me a pointed look that clearly read _behave_, before following her inside. I stepped out and took a good look at the place I would be staying at for the next few days; if I had it my way, I'd find a place by tomorrow afternoon.

At this point, furniture was not a big necessity to me. I'd sleep on the floor if it meant I didn't have to stay under the same roof with Charlie—the one person I hated more than _la bella strega._

Five minutes had passed before I realized what I was actually looking at. A house. A very _small_ house.

I would love to say that it looked like one of those quaint little homes found in London, but I try to avoid lying when necessary.

Oh fuck, I just walked onto a Kid Rock music video.

The small house had white paneling that must've seen better days, but probably so long ago it wasn't worth mentioning. The grass had weird green things growing out of it that looked foreign. The sidewalk leading to the house had too many cracks to be considered cobblestone, which was good because there wasn't any reason to try passing it off as such, what with weeds growing in between the large slabs. There was a horrible orange rustic truck beside the house that gave the place a junkyard type feeling.

And, fuck me! There was a rusted chip banister was hanging off of the porch. Who lives like this!?

_Yup, tomorrow afternoon will do._

I sighed, walking towards the back of the truck, grabbing my bags.

As soon as I walked in, I was met with what appeared to be a kitchen. Carlislewas sitting at a small table drinking out of an ugly olive cup, while la strega sat opposite of him, chuckling at something he said.

_Wow, thanks for all of the help guys._

I tossed my bags down and grabbed a seat next to Carlisle.

"So, where's my new _father_-in-law?" I asked when they grew silent.

"At work."

_And cue the awkward silence._

_Silence._

_Silence._

_Silence._

"Okay, well, I'm tired. So if you'll be kind enough to point me in the right direction…" I mumbled.

"You can have my room for now. You and Carlisle will have to switch later," she sighed, scraping her chair against the scratched linoleum floor. _Figures._

"Whatever," I murmured, following behind her through the living room and up a narrow staircase.

Her room was the first one on the right, and directly across the bathroom.

_Of course there was only one bathroom, what the hell was I thinking!_

Her room was _not_ what I expected. I expected purple paint, rock posters; you know, the typical traits of a rebellious teenage girl trying desperately hard to not fit into the stereotypical characteristic of a _normal_ teenage girl.

What I found was pink walls, lace curtains, and a fucking vanity! Where the hell was I? Was there some sort of wharf I walked into on the staircase? Was there some sort of Punk'd version of the Twilightzone la strega was chosen to participate in?

"Don't touch my things. In fact, don't even _look_ at my things. If there's a knock at the window don't open it. If my phone rings don't answer it. Take your shoes off before you get in my bed, and please refrain from drooling on my pillows," she dictated, ticking off things on her finger as she went.

I rolled my eyes, wondering if she practiced being a bitch in front of her vanity or if she had some sort of permanent PMS handicap going on.

"First off, I wouldn't dream of even touching your things. In fact, if I wasn't so partial to them, I'd burn my eyeballs out of my head just to avoid _looking_ at them. Second of all, I don't answer windows, phones, or anything else you seem to do—that's what maids and butlers are for. Third off, I do have home training, so the shoes would most likely come off before I lie down on that germ fest you call a bed. And quite frankly, I'm surprised you knew you were supposed to do that. And finally, I'm going to avoid your pillow at all costs. 'Kay?" I drawled out.

She snorted, shaking her head. "Whatever," she mumbled, before heading back towards the door. "I don't feel like arguing with you."

"Good, because quite frankly, I came in good faith. I had no intention whatsoever of arguing with you, because this is going to be a long ass year as it is. But judging by your little bitch speech, I'm not so sure you can stop."

She stilled in the doorway, her hands clutching into a fist before releasing. Her hair was pulled into a ponytail and I could just make out her shaking her head softly when the long brown waves swung lightly.

"You're right," she sighed, turning around. "I'm going to offer you an olive branch. You retract the new living arrangements and we'll be cool," she said.

_Uh, let me think,_ "Fuck no!" I yelled. I don't care if we're at each other's fucking throats with knives twenty four seven. Charlie was a fucking sadistic bastard, and had temper problems. That olive branch might be extended from his daughter, but it sure as hell wasn't extended from Charlie.

And to be honest, I'd rather deal with angry Bella the rest of my fucking life than deal with crazy, homicidal Charlie for more than a few days.

"Well then, fuck you, Cullen," she said as she walked out of the room.

I groaned, flopping down onto the bed. _What the fuck have I gotten myself in to?_

_--------_

_**Author's Note:**_

(First off, let me apolo-lie for this long ass author's note in advance)

_Okay, as my awesome Beta, _Gangstapenguinduck lover, has pointed out, this is a filler. I just wanted to get Edward to Forks and for you guys to get a little feel inside his head….see he's not _that_ bad.

I'm very ecstatic at the response this story is getting! Were already close to 100 reviews and only on the third chapter! Yay us!

There were some questions from some of you that I wanted to answer, In chapter three there was a tiny mistake, the name for the salon, it should be New Moon, not Aro's because Aro is the judge and the shop is in Florida, which is where Jane lives, _not_ Washington. Thank you _lilmissfireball_ for bringing the errors to my attention. You're awesome girly.

I'm going to add tidbits of their drunken night of sex throughout the story because those two were just too wasted to know what happened completely. If you guys would like me to do a sort of one-shot/outtake of what happened, let me know in your review!

I know you guys have a LOT of questions about Tanya, and so does Bella. But I'm keeping my lips sealed. This is just one of those times where you'll have to wait until Bella finds out. But if you guess right, I wont say no….

Um, since this chapter was more of a filler, I'm working hard to get you guys the next chapter by Wednesday?

And as always I want to thank** Gangstapenguinduck lover**for all of the hard work she puts in on correcting these chapters…and believe me, these chapters be a crazy-mess before I send them to her. So thankie girly!

I want to hear what you think. Any question? Any problems? Got a suggestions? Let me know!

Reviews equals teasers _and_ faster updates (see how much you get for a simple "good update" or just a smiley face, I'm not picky!)


	5. Not in Kansas Anymore Part: 2

**Author's note at the end... I don't own Twilight.**

**Chapter Four:**

**Not in Kansas Anymore Part:2**

"Oh, so _now_ you pick up?" I mocked, secretly wondering about Jasper's sudden disappearance the past few days, I mean, he had the time to talk to _Jane_ right? So 'busy' couldn't be the excuse this time.

"Of course ma dukes, Jasper _always_ has time for the little people," he chuckled as I rolled my eyes.

"Jasper is about to get his ass kicked if _Jasper _doesn't revert back to normal in like 0.25 seconds," I reply, estimating how long it would be before Charlie realized his cruiser was missing.

It wasn't like he could blame _me_ for _borrowing_ his car. If he had of gotten _my_ car fixed like I told him to a few weeks ago, I wouldn't have had to _borrow_ his car in the first place. So really, it was all his fault, but I highly doubted he'd see it that way, what with him being melodramatic and all.

"Get dressed, do you hair, put your flea collar on─ do whatever you do to prepare for your human guests," I deadpanned, flipping the headlights off.

"Hardy, har-har Bells. I see marriage has given you a sense of humor," he retorts.

"Bite me, Jazz! I didn't ask for the commentary from the peanut gallery, just put your shit on and get your monologic ass down here!"

"Whoa, whoa, whoa…monologic? Has somebody been watching _sesame street_ again?" He chuckled, "And besides, if your erratic harebrained person were a little more _observant_ than literate you'd have known, I've been sitting on the porch the whole time."

_Jerk._

"Well come on then," I grumbled. "Did you need a map to get to the car?"

"No can do Mrs. B, the only way I'm getting in that _thing_ is in handcuffs," he snorted. I flipped the police lights on and off real quick, just to annoy the fuck out of him.

"_Fuck, _Bells! Don't play like that. You know I still get flashbacks. Postpartum depression and shit…" he trailed off as I laughed.

If there was a phobia of all things police, Jasper definitely had it, although it didn't really quell his adventurous escapades that lead him head first with said phobia….

"I think your none conversant ass means _Posttraumatic stress disorder,_ unless there's a fucked up baby with blue eyes and a niche for breaking and entering out there somewhere?"

"Yeah Mrs. B, you lost me at conversant," he deadpanned. "Just haul yo ass out of the chief's stolen vehicle and get yo ass up here. It's a beautiful day in the neighborhood B, sit yo ass down on the porch and enjoy the weather, before the chief grounds your delinquent ass for grand theft auto."

I sighed in defeat. Sliding out of the cruiser, I slammed the door, locked up and stumbled up to the porch, dodging bush-sized-weeds all the way.

"Damn it Jazz, it's called _Roundup_. Use it," I gritted out, as a green _weed_ that looked like poison ivy, brushed against my ankles.

"Damn it Bells, it's called _Frizz ease._ Use it," he smirked, arching one blond eyebrow.

"My hair's not frizzy," I pouted, as he laughed.

"No, your hair's not frizzy doll, just a mess, but a cute mess. Like an I just got laid mess?" He joked, turning to me with an amused sort of inquiring grin.

_Urgh, as if I'd go anywhere near the asshole._

_ Again…._

"If that's your way of asking if I'm fucking my _husband_, then no, nothing like that going on around here," I said, pointing from my toes then up to my head. Jasper just laughs and shakes his head.

"You are something…._special," _he murmured.

"Special like, there is nobody in the world as beautiful and as smart as me? Or like, short bus going to FHS in a red helmet type special. Because if it's the second thing, I'm kicking your ass. Letting you know that shit right off the bat, Jazz," I said in one breath. "Not that there's anything wrong with the short bus, right? Isn't that what Mrs. Whitlock told you on your first day of school?"

"No," he laughed. "Something special like there is no one on this earth quite like you," he amended. "See, I wasn't even going to say all of that. Don't _you_ feel all yo-yo?"

"Jasper," I sighed. "I've felt worst than shit this past week, feeling _yo-yo_ would only feel like a reprieve."

He nodded, pulling a ciggy out of his vintage, metal cigarette case, before lighting it up and taking a long drag from it. "So, I'm guessing you're ready for _the_ talk, huh?"

"I guess I am," I replied, my voice laced with amazement.

"Bells, we are not are parents," he simply said. "We make mistakes, but we amend them. You will _not_ flee Forks over something that could be easily amended," he snorted. "Save that shit for murders and bank robberies."

I laughed, wondering how I thought _the _talk with Jasper could be anything different. He shrugged, as if to say 'what the fuck did you expect,' before tossing his arm over my shoulder, bringing me closer to him.

I could smell the whisky emitting from his very pores, laced with the strong smell of cigarette smoke. I breathed in deeply, smiling in content of the familiar.

"So, I could either stay in Forks and deal with the bastard, or murder him and get stuck dealing with Jane, Phil, and Renee in Florida?"

He snorted, taking another drag from his ciggy, before saying, "I hope to God you have more sense than _that._ If you pop him off, go foreign."

"So you're condoning murder now, Mr. Whitlock?" I mocked.

"You know me, I'll try anything _once_," he smirked cockily.

"That I do," I murmured, leaning back into his arms to lock at the stars.

We stayed there in total silence, both looking up at the stars, lost in our own world. His arm stayed around my shoulder and my head stayed tucked into the crook of his neck. I was soaking in the steady calm Jasper always seemed to emit.

After a while, he sighed, dipping his head in to kiss my forehead. "It'll be okay. It's only marriage for one year," he murmured. "Just keep it uncomplicated," he whispered distractedly.

"Jazz, I'm eighteen years old, I married an assholic stranger, I think he just might be the sexiest bastard alive, and I want to kill him," I murmur into his chest. "How will things ever be _uncomplicated._"

Jasper sighs, rubbing my arms in a pondering type of gesture. "I guess will have to kill the bastard then."

**EPOV**

Cigarette smoke and soft thumping floating from the slightly opened window roused me from my uncomfortable ass slumber. The cheap ass piece of shit she had the nerve to call a bed, was lumpy as fuck, causing every single one of my muscles and nerves to scream out in protest as I rolled out of bed and on to the thick purple rug off the side of it.

She had a purple _and_ pink room, looking more like a cross between Barney and Barbie's honeymoon suit. I would have found it mildly amusing that such a cruel and vicious bitch would have something even remotely…._pretty,_ if it wasn't so nauseating.

I would have to remember to _not_ let her decorate _anything_ when we moved. I preferred _Tuscan_ not _Mattel._

I scrubbed my hands across my face, clearing my eyes of the thin layer of fog that accumulated in my short nap, and trampled over towards the window.

The sun had set, casting the yard into totally darkness since apparently, streetlights hadn't been discovered in Forks yet, but the lazy melodic sounds of a guitar being strung still floated from the cracked window, meaning that either Charlie or La Strega was still out and about, or they had one rude ass neighbor doing musical drive-bys in the dead of the night.

I was beginning to learn that anything was possible in the wonderful world of Forks Washington.

Barbie rooms for Stregas, houses belonging on trashy rock video shoots, humans that hadn't quite completely evolved yet….Yup, that was Forks for you.

I slipped my shoes back on and made my way downstairs, fully attending on waking Carlisle up. No matter how much I disliked Carlisle now a days, even _I_ wasn't big enough of a jerk to make an old man sleep on a couch that probably felt like shit. I mean, the man _did_ just drive me six hours into no man's land, it could never be said that I wasn't at least grateful─ even if he was the one to volunteer my move in the first place.

I lightly walked down the stairs, wincing as each step groaned and creaked under my feet. It was a good thing I wasn't trying to rob the place, the whole house would be alert and waiting for me before I even stepped foot on the first floor.

Fortunately for me, I didn't get lost. _Not that I could anyway, you could practically see the whole first level of the house from any position on the stairs._

I spotted Carlisle in an awkward ass position on the couch, nestled between a flat pillow and a ratty old quilt. He shifted at least three times before I took the last step that placed me before him, in front of the couch.

"Dad," I whispered, gently nudging him awake. It didn't take much. In a matter of seconds, Carlisle was up and alert, a "Thank Heavens," falling from his lips, as he made his way upstairs in search of a bed he'd soon find just as uncomfortable as his make-shift one.

I flopped down onto the couch, taking my cell-phone out of my pocket. I had six missed calls, all from the _stalker_ claiming the most unspeakable shit in existence.

It was sad the shit people would make up for a little money and status. I made a mental note to tell Alice that little bit of info. She had her own special way of scaring girls away from me, it was a skill she was proud of perfecting.

And less face it, Alice could be scary when needed to be. I'd hate to be on the wrong side of her viciousness.

I heard feet shuffling, a bang, and a whispered shout, "Shit!"

I craned my head to look over the back of the couch, noticing a slim figure standing in the doorway. "Sorry, I didn't mean to wake you," she whispered, dropping off what looked to be a large sports bag off to the side of the door and shuffling closer.

In the faint light of the room, I could make out figures, ivory skin, and long wild hair. Somewhere in the back of my mind, I _knew_ it was Isabella, the cruel and mean vicious bitch, but the light apologetic voice stopped me from making any cruel comments on her clumsiness.

It might have been the way her harmonious voice apologized, so soft and gentle, that caught me by surprise, or they way that her normal baggy heinous apparel was gone and replaced with something more feminine that caused me to hold my tongue. _Fuck_, it might have been the fact that I was tired as all fucking hell, and was hallucinating or some shit like that.

But if I was being completely honest with myself, it was really the lack of cruelty in her voice that had caused me to reply with "No, it's fine. You didn't wake me."

She nodded, before coming closer, walking into the moonlight peaking in between the curtains. She hesitated in front of me, pulling her bottom lip in between her teeth. Most likely, having some sort of inner musings, before shocking the hell out of me and plopping down beside me. The faint smell of cigarette smoke lingering in the air between us.

"Look. I've been thinking," she sighed, dragging her fingers through her hair. "That you're right. It's going to be a long ass year, and this shit's going to be difficult enough. I would like to think of us as associates in this whole fucked up scheme of things. Because like it or not, I'm the only other person to know what this situation feels like," She shrugged. "Nobody else could relate to this shit."

I nodded, resting my head back against the couch cushions. "So this is the olive branch," I stated.

"No," she murmured. "I think we should start over."

She turned to me, sticking out her hand as she said, "Hello, I'm Bella Swan."

I snorted, shaking my head at the irony of it all. I mean, I was being introduced to my own_ wife_ after all. On what planet is this normal?

Her hand stayed there, shaking lightly between us. I didn't like her, she was a cruel bitch that thought the sun rose and fell on her ass. It had only been a little over a week and she managed to befriend _my_ Carlisle and _my_ Esme, causing them to already look at her like the child they've always wanted, inadvertently making my life a complete living hell.

Bad words were constantly spewed from both parties, hateful glares, hurtful words, and underhanded tricks that hurt more that the words could ever hurt.

Isabella Swan had managed to do the one thing no one else in this world could─ she managed to get under my skin.

She was observant, that, I had to hand it to her. She saw things that I wasn't entirely sure I was comfortable with an enemy out for my blood to see, if I was being completely honest with myself, I needed this olive branch, because heavens help me, I'd lose my sanity if this went on for a whole year.

Hesitantly, I reached out and captured her hand with mine. "Hello Bella, I'm Edward Cullen," I said.

**BPOV**

The next morning dawned foggy and rainy just as 94 percent of the rest of the days here in Forks Washington. Even thought I simply _detested_ Forks weather. Just waking up every day to the horrid weather, was enough to officially ruin my day.

But despite the dreaded rain and unclear skies, I could tell that today was going to be a wonderful day. My talk with Jasper last night cleared my head, and had me channeling my inner vindictiveness, along with acting skills I had no _clue I _even possessed.

Needless to say, he bought the "Hello, I'm Bella Swan" bit.

And he had the nerve to call _me_ ignorant.

"Morning Bella," a voice said, disturbing me from my inner vindictive musings. I turned around to see Carlisle sitting at the kitchen table, a cup of coffee, a box of doughnuts, and a laptop spread out in front of him.

"Hi Carlisle," I smiled. "Couldn't sleep?" I asked, looking back towards to the box of Dunkin Doughnuts.

"That obvious?" He grimaced, drinking a large gulp of coffee.

"Well yeah," I chuckled. "Seeing how it's barely six in the morning and there's a box of Dunkin Doughnuts sitting on the kitchen table, and since they probably didn't start a delivering service overnight…..I'm guessing you were the one to take that two hour drive north," I deadpanned as he chuckled.

"Well I traded sleep in the day I went to medical school," he dismissed. "Would you like one. I didn't know what kind you guys would like so I got one of everything," he said sheepishly.

I nodded my thanks. "I eat just about anything with vanilla frosting slathered on it, and Charlie's fine with anything that doesn't move," I joked, opening the box.

"Wow, you weren't kidding about one of everything were you?" I asked distractedly, looking at a Boston cream sitting beside a blueberry muffin.

"You didn't have to do all of this you know, we would have been fine with dried toast," I joked again.

Carlisle smiled, before taking another gulp of his coffee. "Then what kind of guest would I have been, putting you out of your room, eating up all of your beloved toast…" he deadpanned as I laughed, snatching up a blueberry muffin.

Carlisle had a sense of humor, he was charming, nice and thoughtful─ everything his dreaded son wasn't. It almost made me wonder if Edward was adopted or not─ or knowing Esme's kind soul, he was probably found on the side of the road, brought in as a stray, washed, fed, and taught not to go all over her expensive Italian leather sofa.

I snorted, causing Carlisle's head to pop up. "Something you wanna share with the class?" He said, arching a perfectly shaped brow.

"I was just wondering," I hesitated, taking another bite of my muffin. He motioned for me to continue, giving me that god-awesome charming smile, which really prompted me to finally ask it. "Edward? What's his deal?"

Carlisle's smile froze in place, as he slowly made to sit his coffee back down onto the table. "I'm not sure I understand what you're asking," he confessed.

"You know," I edged on. "You and Esme are _nice_," I said in shock, watching as both of his eyebrows shot up, a perfect picture of shock displayed across his features. "No, I mean, you guys are nice people," I amended. "Just very sweet and caring," I blushed, as Carlisle smirked.

"You say that like it's a rare thing," he smiled gently.

"No, but you know what I mean. You guys are just so much different then Edward…" I trailed off, as understanding lit his features.

He sighed, before looking out the window beside us. "Edward's just…..he's just had a hard time lately," he started, scrubbing his hands through his fine blond hair. "He's just at a point right now where everything's coming to a head," he continued. "I wouldn't be too offended by what he may say or do."

Wow. I think I may be way passed offended. I mean, who wouldn't be. In the last week, he's basically called me a whore, a dumbass, poor trash, and uncivilized. I'm sorry, but many people have _hard_ times and don't behave like they've lost half their brains.

And really, he's only eighteen! How much of a hard time can he have? Prom, college applications? Really!

"But I'm not worried about it," he continued. "If me and Esme knew you wouldn't be able to handle Edward, one of us would have moved down here, or we would have insisted you stay with us. Edward, in general, is a good kid. He might wine and complain and cry about it at first, but he'll come around."

Yeah sure Carlisle. I knew people liked to think the best of their children but God this was ridiculous. I mean, hello? Have you met your demon child?

Just as I was about to reply, the devil himself comes prancing into the room. He stops by the door and looks between Carlisle and me, before shaking his head and plopping down into the seat beside Carlisle. "Morning," he mumbles, reaching for the box of doughnuts.

We both reply with Good Mornings and Carlisle resumes typing on his laptop, as I take another bite out of my muffin.

The room is silent and tense and the most uncomfortable sort of awkward I'd ever felt. I fidget with the ends of my shirt, Edward clears his throat and sniffs, and Carlisle's heavily using the backspace button on the keyboard.

"Well….yeah," I said, a sad ass attempt at trying to break the awkwardness. "Charlie couldn't get out of work today," I mentioned. "So I'm the guide today. Tell me where you want to go, your wish is my command."

Carlisle looked up from his computer and smiled, just as Edward said, "How about we go search for a new place, _wife_?"

**Author's Note:**

**Sorry, this shit hadn't been beta'd yet, and the long ass wait on the updates is due to a couple of reasons but mainly because I have a shitty ass computer and because school has started, meaning every damn professor is riding asses in hopes to prove their class isn't the slack off class that it really is….which happens a lot in art schools….**

**Umm, you guys have been really terrific with the reviews and the suggestions, and since this is my first real Twilight fic, I've really been taking to heart your suggestions. Such as….Longer chapters! I've decided to make the chapters longer to speed up the pace of the plot. Thank you Missie Jessie for that suggestion.**

**And also, thank you to lilmissfireball for ridding my ass for the late updates, and for telling me when shit in general doesn't make sense. I doubt I would have updated today if it weren't for you girly, so thank you with tons and tons of hugs.**

**Hopefully, by next week, I'll be back to the schedule I originally started with, posting once every week, and replying to every review. Hopefully by then, I'll be adjusted with school. **


	6. Breakdown, Bella style 1

I walk into the room and Bella and Carlisle are sitting together at the table just enjoying each other's fucking presence as if they haven't a care in the world. Carlisle's sitting with his computer propped up and ignored in front of him, as Bella leans closer, a muffin in one hand and the other on the table.

And since it's a common occurrence for people to stop, stare, then fall silent whenever I walk into the room now days, I'm not offended when the laughs, smiles, and quite chatter changes into a _we-don't-fucking-want-you-here_ type of silence, so I just shake my head and sit, reaching over to grab the box of Dunking Doughnuts that coincidentally happens to be a bunch of dry barely edible crap.

"Morning," I mumble around a dry ass bagel.

"Morning," they mumble collectively. And then back to the silence…

The silence in the room gets tenser as Carlisle's backspacing grows faster. And I quickly debate on leaving the room, I mean _God,_ you guys, seriously? But I don't, because Bella interrupts us happily, and mentions something about King of the troglodytes actually having a job and her being our tour guide for the day, which actually perks me up, since I thought papa beaver would come and grunt, and sigh, then grunt some more until either I grew irritated and agreed to move into their _way-too-humble-abode_ or is marched to the towns center and stoned to death for murdering the town's only law enforcement official.

"How about we go search for a new place, _wife_?" I say, completely giving up on the dry ass piece of shit called a Dunking Doughnut's bagel.

Bella sighs and looks as if she's about to say something but grimaces instead, shaking her head softly. Carlisle's hand comes up and rests on Bella's wrists, as she composes herself before walking away.

_What the fuck?_

"Do you want to tell me what the hell that was about?" I hiss, my hands clenching and then unclenching in my anger. I mean, I was eighteen after all, and in my eighteen years of life, Carlisle had never done anything like that towards me. Nothing like that at all….

And if I'm willing to admit it to myself, I'm jealous as hell that this little plain, boring _Jane _of a girl has managed to do something I've only tried to do my entire life, but I'm not strong enough to admit _that_, so I settle for unexplainable white hot anger.

"Watch your language," Carlisle admonishes, returning back to his backspacing and whatever the hell is on the computer that is suddenly imperative that it requires his full attention.

And it's always this way with him. Work, work, and more work, but there's time for Esme and now Bella, and the same goes for Esme. I mean _fucking_ tea? Since when is Esme fucking idle enough to do fucking _tea?_

When Bella came along, that's when.

But instead of the all out bitch fest I was currently throwing myself, I sigh, and just focuse my energy on finishing out this year, and then putting as much fucking distance between us, Dartmouth was my salvation….

"_How about we go search for a new place, wife?" _I mimick into the phone. Jasper snorts and I can picture his bright blue eyes rolling in amusement.

"I mean seriously, who the fuck talks like that?" I rant on in a soft whisper.

"Well apparently _he_ does." Jasper's voice was way to fucking amused for the level of annoyed I've already reached. If he is going to take my distress with a joke and a smile, he will be lying right next to Smarmy's ass in a ditch, right under the welcome to Forks sign.

_This isn't McDonalds fucker! Smiling is prohibited._

"Urgggggg!" I growl, totally giving up my pretenses of taking a shower and _not_ sitting on the bathroom floor, whispering over something else_ he_ did like I currently was.

Jasper's laughter floats through the phone. I pull it away from my ear and glare at it, wishing against all heavens there was some way for me to step into the receiver and kick Jasper's jolly ass.

"What the fuck Jazz! Do you actually find this shit amusing?" I hiss, clutching my ancient brick Nokia a little tighter than normal.

"Well…._yeah_," Jasper chortles. "I mean, I have _never_ seen you like this. Except for that one time with the mutt, but that doesn't really count..."

I roll my eyes and sigh, as I lay onto the hard floor, letting my hair spread out around me. "I'm for real Jasper. I'm already pretty sure I could do twenty. _Don't _make me go for forty," I murmur, running my hands across my face. "I mean, I'll miss you and all, but us Swan's aren't _that_ sentimental, so behave."

"Isabella Marie Swan, are you trying to threaten my life?" Jasper gasps playfully.

"No threats Jasper Whitlock. Charlie might be pissed right now, but I am his _only_ daughter. He'll help me hide the bodies. It'll be like you never existed," I say, and then quickly add, "Until NBC does a special documentary or some shit like that."

"You are fucking insane. You need to be locked up in a white padded cell, not terrorizing the upstanding citizens of Forks Washington."

_Bang. Bang. Bang._

"Come on Swan. Let's get this show on the road," McBastard shouts from the other side of the door.

"Is that papa Swan going all parental warden?" Jasper asks.

I groan, banging my head back onto the floor. "I'm going to kill him!" I moan softly as I clutched my phone a little harder than normal. "I don't know Jazz, this fucking 'let's start over crap' is going to kill me. I don't know how long I'll be able to fake it."

_Bang. Bang. Bang._

"Let's go Swan, we got shit to do today."

EPOV

The first place looks like shit. There is a bedroom and a yellow and brown panel kitchen with one fucking cabinet in it, and the living room looks more like the receiving room attached to my bedroom at home. The bathroom is so small you could literally fucking twirl and be everywhere and nowhere at the same time.

The closet. What closet?

And there is only three fucking windows in the small ass box they have the audacity to call an "apartment."

So of course Bella likes it.

"Um, no," I dismiss her, already making my way to the front door. It takes me four whole steps to get from the back of the apartment to the front door.

"But look, one of us could take the living room and the other could take the bedroom."

"Um….no," I say again, this time a little louder. "There's barely enough room in the _living room _for a fucking chair. Even _I'm _not that much of a bastard to make you sit up and sleep for the next year," I hiss at her.

"Gee thanks," she mumbles, and I shrug.

"Don't worry about it."

The second place is a whole lot bigger, but comes with its own pets. Bella agrees and dismisses the second one; though I'm quite surprised she did since the whole mice infestation would more than likely make Charlie feel right at home.

And since it's right next to the lake and everything, I could picture Charlie hunting for bait in the living room, making sounds at the walls at three in the morning, before racking his newly acquired goods and walking out the back door and onto the dock.

_Yeah, fun times._

This time we walk out together and practically race to big red. "Well that went well," Bella says, her voice low and sullen.

"Definitely," I groan fustrated and scrubbing my hands through my hair. I didn't think finding a place would be this disappointing. We've only been to two places but those two are in no way livable.

"We'll the first one wasn't that bad, it had-"

"No," I clip. "Just no."

She sighs and presses the gas harder, causing big red to make this sputter, choking sound, like it's been smoking a pack of day since a pack was even invented. "Did you want to get anything to eat? I'm starving."

I shrug, glancing at her out of the corner of my eye. Considering our history, she's been quite…nice today, and that unnerves me to no fucking end because nice and Bella Swan doesn't even belong in the same sentence together.

"I could eat," I reply slowly, still a little confused from my prior revelation. Trying to figure out Bella Swan was like trying to fit a large square into a small circle, she was a wild card.

And I'm normally very good at figuring people out…

Ten minutes of depressing swamp-like scenery later, we're sitting in the drive-thru of a McDonalds and Bella is just scowling up at the sign, like it was the one responsible for all the things gone wrong in the world.

I would ask her what her problem is, but I'm actually quite mesmerize at finally not being the one on the other end of that vicious glare, from this end she looks sort of, kind of, not like the wicked witch of the west but more like baby Simba prancing around in paw prints to big for her paws.

BPOV

"God, I can't believe you eat that shit."

I shrug, tossing another salty piece of heaven into my chocolate shake. "I can't believe you don't."

"Your going to get a fucking heart attack and die," he says, cutting his burger into fours with the cheap plastic toy knife McDonalds loves to hand out.

"I'd die happily then. With my chocolate shake and fries and my big greasy burger and no Edward Cullen in sight," I say, because pretentious Edward gets on my fucking nerves. He makes me want to yell, cry, and pull out my hair strand by fucking strand. I mean come_ on_ 'Your going to get a fucking heart attack and die' he says, like he isn't eating the _same_ fucking thing! Correct me if I'm wrong, but is there a special power in cutting your food into squares like a fucking child? Was it going to take away the fucking calories and every other thing NBC news claims isn't good for you? Wasn't his shake and fries going to the same fucking place? Or does one go to a holding room and waits until the other digests.

And I'm debating food and the fucking digestive system, this is what Edward Cullen manages to reduce me to in a matter of mere seconds.

"And here I thought the shrew was dead," he grumbles.

"It's a good thing you don't get paid for thinking then," I sigh, training my eyes back to the road as I maneuver another fry into the chocolaty goodness. "Wait. Did you just call me a _shrew? _What the fuck is a shrew_, Mcbastard_?"

"_McBastard_? Is that what you call me in that incredibly deluded minuscule brain of yours?"

"Minuscule… deluded, dude, I'm seriously two seconds away from kicking your ass out of my vehicle," I hiss. _Seriously._

"Vehicle, is that what you call this thing?" He sneers.

"No bitch, I call it walking," I yell, pulling over to the side of the road. "Hit the pavement dude."

"You really are delusional. I'm not getting out, just drive your little hunk of junk back to your little squabble, and we'll be cool."

"Fuck you, Edward Cullen. You are a bastard. And I hate you. Seriously, hate you," I sigh, completely tired of life in general, because that's how he makes me feel, tired, and sad, and frustrated, and God why me? What did I ever do to you?

I want to cry, but I settle for throwing my head back and crossing my arms. I wasn't going any further until he got out. There is something about him… his energies are so negative and draining… I've never believed any of that shit when Jasper's crazy mother spouted it, but right now sitting here next to Edward, or just being anywhere near Edward irritates me. The _thought_ of Edward irritates me.

I don't know why he has so much power over my feelings, but he does, and if I knew for sure that I would get away with it, I'd kill him… For my freedom, I'd kill Edward Cullen.

EPOV

Fuck, this bitch is seriously crazy. She's throwing a fucking temper tantrum, slapping her steering wheel and groaning as she shakes the car with her rocking.

"You are such an asshole. And I hate you, God, I fucking _hate you_," she screams, clenching one fist around the steering wheel.

_Well, that's good to know, seeing as how I'm not entirely in love with you either…_

Is what I want to say, but seeing as how she is currently having a mental breakdown, and I have no full knowledge of the mental state of the crazy sitting beside me, I sigh and try my best to apologize.

After all, I want to get home in one piece. I have no doubts that she'd tried to kill me, seeing as how _**Chew**_boca tried that shit the morning I woke up in hell.

I cringed at that memory…

It was like waking up in that commercial with all of the big, warm, gooey chocolate chip cookies, lying in platters all around the white kitchen, only to go to the fridge to find it full of empty milk cartoons…

As a child, I always thought that was the worst kind of hell…

But no, the worst kind of hell is waking up to a warm, soft body, and a raging hard-on that was nesting perfectly against a beautiful females ass. And after feeling the warm juices leaking from her thighs leak onto my hot cock, I slip inside, only to find out that the willing, beautiful body once grinding softly against my cock is a fucking horrid **shrew**, and oh yeah, I fucking **married **it… Like ball and chain type of married! Shackled…

The worst kind of hell type of shackled…

"Maybe, we should just call it a day."


	7. Breakdown, Bella style 2

I watch as she growls, hops out of her truck and growls some more, stomps up towards the hobbit hole they call "home" and growls, opens then slams the door… and bingo, the crazy bitch growls again.

I need to talk Papa Beaver about buying his spawn a muzzle. _I seriously didn't know how he kept her from biting the kiddies of FHS all these years._

I follow her into the hobbit hole, shutting and locking the door behind me, wondering all the while _why the fuck it had to be me?_ Why did _I_ have to drink that extra drink that night, why didn't Emmett stop me? Why couldn't I'd been hit by a bus instead? Who the fuck get's married in the _middle-_ not before, not fucking after, but the goddamn _middle_ of a one night stand AND is forced to spend a whole year fucking _chained/shackled/stuck _to the craziest bitch this side of the continental U.S.A?

Who? Me, that's who! God fucking _hates_ me and I didn't know why.

"Fucking bastards," she screams from the kitchen.

La Bella Strega was back; meaning that happy face dollar menu hogging Bella is completely gone… _God, what have I ever done to you!_

She flies into the hallway, a puff of green smoke following behind her. "Those fucking bastards went _fishing! The fuck again!"_ She holds up a crumpled piece of paper and flays it around. An angry pit bull with a bone crosses my mind, and God help me, I'm not able to stifle my snort in time.

"What the fuck are _you_ laughing at?"

"Nothing," I frown, casting my eyes downward. _Maybe if I stay perfectly still, she'd go away._

"No, not nothing! What? I want to know," she demands, and since I'm not a complete fucking dumbass, and because I know that when women say they want to know, what they're really saying is "please lie to me, tell me I'm beautiful."

And of course since I'm sort of a_ little bit_ of a dumbass _sometimes_, the first think that pops out of my mouth is, "You're beautiful," only it sounds more like a question than a statement.

And before she can turn like five hundred different shades of red from anger, I'm angry. Not necessarily at her, because I've come to terms with Bella Swan's mental retardation and no matter how much of a jack ass a person can be, you do _not_ get angry at a mentally challenged person, that's just bad form- but mad at myself for, well, for_ wanting_ to be mad at a mentally challenged person…

I could never say Esme hadn't taught me better…

"Yeah, yeah, I know! Ugh! I fucking hate you, you fucking bastard!" I snip, already knowing that fail and Edward Cullen were two conjoined words in Bella Swan's mind.

As I walk away, for once, there isn't yelling or screeching following me, but silence, something I was becoming unfamiliar with.

BPOV

Carlisle left the next day; in his stead he left a black and white stripped shirt and a whistle for Charlie as a gag gift. On the note he wrote:

Have fun refereeing the madness that has taken over our kids.

And of course they got a good laugh out of it; McBastard and I on the other hand, wore matching frowns, completely in agreement over something for once.

_That shit was most definitely not funny._

Soon after Carlisle left, Charlie advises McBastard to register for school to ensure that he would get the classes he needs before going into Dartmouth. I didn't know he was going to go to Dartmouth. But then again, I didn't know Dartmouth had a remedial program either.

Nevertheless, I got in my truck, waited until McBastard is buckled into his seat and peel out of the driveway.

The car ride is silent, in fact, ever since he blew up at me after the whole "beautiful with a question mark" comment, he has been silent. The rest of the day he spent it locked in my bedroom, and when it was time to go to bed, he walked out, sleeping bag and pillow in hand, not saying a goddamn thing.

Though I fucking _love_ this new silent version of McBastard, I can't deny the tiny, almost microscopic part of me that is annoyed by him ignoring me.

_Bitch please, you do not ignore Bella Swan… Bastards of the ignorant variety included._

I fumble with the radio station, finding and then settling on some old Jimmy cracked corn country, just because I know it will annoy the fuck out of McBastard. I'm _not_ going to be the only mother fucker pissed, especially since that whole "beautiful with a question mark" came from Bozo the bronze headed clown over there.

I mean really? _Really?_

He sighs and grumbles something under his breath, and I smile in response, happy for now over my successful transfer of negative energies.

In other words, I was feeling pretty fucking right, right about now and somebody was not. I gave myself a mental pat on the back as I turn into FHS's nearly deserted parking lot.

"This is the school?" Edward asks, his face screwed up in confusion.

And since McBastard ignored me all of last night and this morning, and didn't even mumble a fucking "thank you" for driving him up here when I could be in my nice comfy bed with the shades pulled, I open my door and walk out, leaving him to figure his own shit out.

Eventually he gets the picture because just as I'm letting the doors swing close behind me, he sticks his hand out, wincing as the door fucking slams onto his fingers.

I'm so tempted to ask him if he was sure- like absolutely fucking sure that the school he was going to is named Dartmouth, because let's face it- logically, not even their remedial program should accept him.

I'd hate for Carlisle and Esme to waste thousands on a scam.

"Nice, really fucking nice Isabellla," he sneers my name. I turn around and arch a brow, like seriously? Did he just fucking try to reprimand me like I was a fucking two year old? Bitch, get real.

His jaw is hard, like really fucking tense, moving and ticking and shit, his green eyes is burning like fire… I snort, flipping my hair as I turn and walk towards the main offices.

Whoa, beware of the ticking jaw and fire burning green eyes… Ha, get real.

See, Edward Cullen doesn't scare me- piss me off? Of fucking course, but scare? Meh, yeah the fuck right.

"This way dummy."

"_Or should I say Miszzzzz."_

I watch as Edward leaned over the counter, grinning like a horny madman at the school's secretary. He reaches over and takes her hand- and seriously, if this isn't some Pepe la Pew shit I don't know what else it could be. She shivers, squirms, blushes then giggles, batting her fake eyelashes as she says, "Oh, Mr. Cullen, how charming," then proceeds to fan herself before giving me a pointed stare that clearly reads 'you lucky bitch you…"

This has been going on for the past ten minutes. I'm sure that my bottom molars are chipped and cracked with all of the grinding I've been doing- it was a bad habit I picked up when I was young and caused me many years of uncomfortable nights aided by night guards.

I hadn't had the problem in _years_, but it appears that a few days with Edward Cullen has me taking a tremendous amount of backward steps.

"You see, Dartmouth absolutely requires me to have this class," Edward purrs.

"Oh, Dartmouth you say?"

And the giggling ensues.

I sigh and flop down on the closest chair. What is it about Edward Cullen that brings the weird, the strange, and the totally unstable alter egos out of people? Because seriously, outside of the wild bronze sex hair and those abnormally green eyes- he isn't anything special.

He was cocky, yeah, but with the right amount of confidence, imported hair gel, and tailored clothing—anybody could be Edward Cullen, and even though we don't have any Edward Cullen's in Forks, there has to be some in the state of Washington somewhere.

"And switching lunches? Will that be a problem as well? Because I'd love to eat lunch with my beautiful wife."

She shoots me a smirk and a quick wink before turning back to the devil and smiling widely before saying, "How sweet. Of course I can get you two a lunch together, and how about a _sixth _hour study hall too?" She winks.

Kill. Me. Now.

On the way home, Edward sits in the passengers seat licking his cream as he purrs. He is the epitome of the cat that got his cream—it takes all of my restraint not to shove his ass out of my car. He still annoys me that way.

The radio is shut completely off on the ride back—even I don't have the patience to listen to another round of country—though lately, the songs seem to become the theme soundtrack of my life….

Instead the droll sounds of rain and the squeak of the windshield wipers keeps the car from being set in total silence—which is a good thing considering how me listening to Edward's breathing probably will sign him his death certificate. This fact sends warning signals rushing up and down my spine—I don't hate Edward, not necessarily—it's more like my blood that hates him. Whenever he is within a few feet from me, my blood boils and an unsettling feeling settles in the pit of my stomach. So it isn't me who hates him really, it's my _body_ that hates him…

I'm allergic or something.

Okay… maybe I hate him a little bit too. A little bit.

I pull my truck into the driveway, feeling nostalgic as the gravel crunches under me. I always imagined me bringing my husband home for holidays and for other important events that people usually brought their spouses home for. Never have I imagined it would be from a one-night stand or from a day of registering for our senior year, however, was definitely not one of those thoughts.

I hop out, slamming the door behind me before making my way towards the house. I'm tired, and there is a slight tingling feeling at the bridge of my nose, it might be from the stress Edward Cullen constantly spikes in me, but I'm sure it's more from the pressure of caging in my homicidal-rush whenever I'm within his presence.

I crawl into bed and go to sleep. My last thoughts being of the inside of my eyelids and how I'm still seeing red even though He is out of my sight.

I wake up to the moon streaming light through the gaps in my blinds. I'm momentarily shocked as I observe the darkness surrounding me. It was barely afternoon when I fell into bed and now it is well into the night.

I sigh and roll out of the bed, my feet thumps loudly as they make contact with the floor. I need to find me something to eat.

I yawn, lazily as I make my way down the stairs, not really caring about the loud squeaks the stairs make as I trample down them. Charlie deserves it after the disappearing act he pulled this morning, and Edward… Edward is still Edward—I don't give two shits about disrupting his beauty rest.

As I walk towards the kitchen I flip on the living room and hallway lights, taking perverse pleasure in the groans emitting from the dragons hidden layer. Edward's annoyance has somehow become an aphrodisiac to me—I get off on Edward's displeasure.

Quickly, I make a sandwich—toasted peanut butter and jelly. The shit melts in my mouth. I groan loudly, purposefully. Edward moans again, huffing and puffing, and blowing the house down. I smirk, and finish off my sandwich before I head back to my room. Leaving the lights on.

"Night, night, _hubby_."


End file.
